


Quiet Night

by Zrofyre



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, I don't know what I'm doing, Romantic Fluff, Sappy, tipsy rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zrofyre/pseuds/Zrofyre
Summary: A quiet night, introspective Kylo, tipsy Rey.  Hands and Hair.  This is fluff and nothing but fluff.  Ok.  Maybe some sap too.*A set of drabbles I threw together.  Inspired by a pic ( that I am not technically savvy enough to link / post in here ) in RFR.





	Quiet Night

He grips his fingers as if in fervent prayer. 

It was all worth it. The pain, rage, fear. The slithering darkness that would never release the final corner of his soul. Every sin, every drop of blood soaked into the crevices of his hands, staining like ink. 

He would still hesitate sometimes, to actually touch her with bare palms. He could feel the dark seeping out of his pores and the leather gloves always protected her from any, ANY chance contact. Her light is balanced and to tip that one way or another would be to destroy his everything. So he still sometimes halted the barest breath before he would dare to touch her unshielded. 

Some days are better than others.

She laughs at him to this day for it. 'As if I’m so weak of character, so fallible as to be turned by the grazing of your skin.' He can hear her laughing words even now. Her conviction is endearing. Her strength formidable. Her effusive eagerness for all of life made even his coldest moments worthwhile. 

He can feel her fingers grazing softly against the drifting strands of his hair but he will not open his eyes. His entire bearing is focused on her and contentment fills him. Her scent invades his head, the rough brush of her laughter gusts against his chin and floats to his ears. The casual weight of her, leaning against him so carelessly, so confident in each point of contact. No hesitation in her.

His hesitation. Always a hitch fluttering through his heart to wake to her, to end the day with her. The stars overhead and mists swirling their lights, glazing her features in luminescence. Still he clasps his hands together, no skin to touch her bare back. Exposed by the drape of the robe he gifted her after a longing glance in the market, the briefest hint of her ribs and the delicate bumps and divots of vertebrae ghost through his sleeves. The stiffness in his digits pains him but what if this time . . . he can’t. 

He clasps his hands tighter. 

___

The stars twirl ever so pleasantly. The gentle movements of their glimmering lights dance across the darkened sky. She is cuddled up against her everything, the night is that just right temperature of not cool but not warm, and his hair is amazing tonight.

She also might be drunk.

But you know, who cares? She saved the entire galaxy gods damn it! She brought Kylo Ren back from the brink of ultimate destruction! She even houses those kriffing porgs! They take all the bits and baubles, moving her home around, finding the oddest things necessary. There are just SO MANY NESTS in her house!

Opening her eyes once more, when did she close her eyes?, the wave of darkness cascading to Kylo’s shoulders catches her attention again. It’s just so soft! Twining her fingers in a stream of inkiness, she remembers some of those first nights after the Great War. Kylo was barely out of the bacta tank, barely speaking, barely living.  
Admittedly he had a lot to adjust to, give the man a break!

But when the demons were so loud in his soul and he could only crawl to the end of the day, she loved to sit and just brush his hair for him. She has this old chair and half stuffed full of pillows, you don’t even have to hold yourself up!, and he would rest on the floor, back resting between her knees. Simple silence would fill the room undercut only by the shushing of the brush through strands.

“Can I brush your hair again?”

“Sweet, you did just a few hours ago.” No tone, no inflection, just fact.

“But I WANNA!” Ok, maybe a bit of whine in there.

“You’re drunk.” Is that amusement she hears?

“It was ONE GLASS! And I saved the damned galaxy! And the porgs stole one of my arm wraps for a nest!”

“I’m not mad at you, you’re just fine to let loose. All I said was that you just brushed my hair. But if you want to again you know I’ll never say no.”

She knew he wouldn’t. First, he TRIED TO GIVE THE GALAXY TO HER. But two, he loves her. He LOVES her. Her. Scavenger, rough around the edges, more likely to be sweaty and dirty working on something Rey. So if she wants to brush some damned hair, he’s gonna let her.

Well, he likes it too. 

She can feel the shivers that stumble down his spine. On those past rough days they started as screamingly tense muscles. Slowly the shudders would unclench. He’d twist up again. And unwind again. Until finally he was a limp kitten lounging against her knee.

Now it doesn’t take but a minute or two and he’ll be jelly for her. 

She can feel his tense arms around her. He has this THING where he still doesn’t like to touch her bare skin to bare skin. As if the darkness he still holds would INFECT HER. Ha! He’s such a softie. Big old marshmallow inside.

“Mmm, marshmallows. Can we toast some?”

“If you let me build a fire for you. No, you cannot just use my saber.” Definitely a bit of tiff on that one. 

“It was just one time, and I didn’t have any other options?” This last was said exactly as a question, she’d meant it as a stern statement.

“Just rest here with me a moment. I’ll get a fire going soon. You can have your marshmallows.” Grumbly acquiescence, as if he wouldn’t have GIVEN HER THE GALAXY!

“My thoughts are kinda loud in my head right now.”

“That can happen. Here, lay here.” He finally gives in, trusts her strength, his strength, and slides one of his bare palms up the chilled expanse of her back. Tucking neatly under the fall of her own hair he tilts her head to rest down on his shoulder. She keeps her fingers lazily carding through his own mane. 

The strands drift across the back of her hands and it feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited other than myself just skimming it for issues / errors. First posting. First fanfic writing in maybe a decade or more. The two portions were written separately but focusing on the same pic.
> 
> Also, not so confident in my tone and consistency on Rey's portion. Aiming for tipsy slightly not filtered / loud thoughts tipsy.


End file.
